


UNNAMED CASE #001

by SamFarenn



Category: Wheel of Time - Robert Jordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Channeler police, Police, Red Ajah Police
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-10
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-02-20 16:00:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2434628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SamFarenn/pseuds/SamFarenn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abrya Hirwynn of the Red Ajah wakes up after a night partying in the Red Ajah Tower. A brief history of Randland post-Dragon follows, after which she decides to get together with her friends and have lunch. More to follow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Party All Night and Sleep All Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note on the characters' voices: I have attempted to make Eleanore sound vaguely French, as she is Cairhienin and that is what they sound like. Avilina and Abrya should sound like New Yorkers, I hope.

UNNAMED CASE #001  
A Wheel of Time modern day AU fic.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Abrya’s head was pounding. Something was digging into her side. Oh Light, her head! It felt like it was going to bash its way right out of her skull. Slowly, ever so slowly, she started to get up.  
No, that wouldn’t do. She’d just have to lay here and wait for the pain to fade. She realized she couldn’t remember much about the night before… Vaguely, she recalled seeing a… pig? Had there been a fight? Abrya took a deep breath and inhaled the enticing scent of rum, mixed with the more pungent odor of vomit. Had she thrown up? Or had someone else?  
After half an hour –or so she estimated- Abrya finally gathered the strength to face her blinding headache and opened her eyes. A sticky dryness kept her mouth shut tight, almost as if glued together. She suspected a hangover, but still couldn’t remember enough to be sure. Looking around slowly, trying not to move her head too much, see saw that her apartment was an absolute mess. Confetti littered the floor along with bottles, both broken and whole. What looked like a slice of pizza was plastered against the wall, and a yellowish stain darkened the crimson curtains. She didn’t even want to think about what that might be. Haltingly, she swung her legs from the couch she found herself on and stood up. Immediately, her headache worsened and nausea ensued. Abrya barely managed to keep the contents of her stomach where they belonged.  
Fighting her now-obvious hangover, she shuffled into the kitchen and grabbed a clean glass from the counter. She filled it with water and went to the bathroom to get a pain reliever. While in the bathroom, she also turned on the shower; it took a while to warm up because of the low-rent building she lived in.  
After her shower she felt quite refreshed, and even though her headache hadn’t receded completely, it was still bothering her. The problem was, she couldn’t go to a sister with it. They’d all say it was her fault, that she shouldn’t have gotten drunk last night and now she had to face the consequences. She sighed and looked at her face in the mirror. The usual Aes Sedai agelessness on an oval, cinnamon-colored face. Her high cheekbones gave her a stern and commanding air, along with the thin eyebrows above her slate grey eyes. Whole locks of her cedar hair had escaped from the bun on the left side of her head, and Abrya could still smell the liquor on her breath, along with some other unsavory scents. On an impulse, she stuck her head under the faucet and turned on the cold water. That sure cleared her head.  
She looked down, dripping, and realized her dress was torn across the bodice and up one leg. Confused, she reached out to embrace the Source, but started panicking when she couldn’t seem to hold on to saidar. Forcing down the panic, she tried to think like a White. Logic, Abrya! Keep your head about it! Of course she couldn’t seize the Source when hung-over; everyone knew that, even the Asha’man. Resigned to her fate for now, she decided to make herself some breakfast. A pity there weren’t as many novices as there once had been; else one of them would have brought a tray up from the massive kitchens in the bowels of the Red Spire.  
-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-  
Now, some explanation is due here. The White Tower, as you, the reader, know it, was founded around 100 AB, when the surviving Aes Sedai elected their first Amyrlin Seat. Sadly, her name has long since been lost to the mists of time. Construction on the Tower itself was completed near 200 AB. In the chaos of the Trolloc Wars that ravaged much of the Westlands (reports on any Seanchan equivalent of this war remain lost to this day), many valuable sources of information about the Breaking of the World were lost. In 999 NE (1 Before the Dragon), the Amyrlin Usurper, Elaida do Avriny a’Roihan, in a fit of vanity, ordered construction of her own private palace that would surpass the White Tower in magnitude. After the Seanchan Attack, Elaida was carried off to become damane, and construction was ceased. The new Amrylin, Egwene al’Vere, repurposed the palace to house the new novices and Accepted, seeing as the reformation of the regulations regarding the intake of novices allowed for women of any age to learn to channel.  
After Tarmon Gai’don is where history becomes –fuzzy, if you will. Though there were supposedly plenty of written accounts of the events succeeding the Last Battle, precious few have remained. Most believe it was some Brown sister who accidentally knocked over a candle in the Tower library. Other, more eccentric sources say that Trollocs descended from the receding Blight and ravaged the nations. To date, no concrete evidence to support this theory has been found.  
Now, nearly one thousand years AD, Tar Valon is a magnificent metropolis. Automobiles swarm the streets at rush hour each morning, and skyscrapers reach ever upwards, but none so high as the White Tower complex. Over the years, Amrylins had renovated the heart of Aes Sedai power, building a tower to house each Ajah. The Blue, the Red, the White, the Gray, the Green, the Yellow, the Brown and, of course, the Hall of the Tower. The towers radiate like spokes from a wheel out from the central Amyrlin’s Tower, each one bearing the name of an ancient Amyrlin of their Ajah; the Blues had Tamra Ospenya Tower, the Yellows Nynaeve al’Meara Tower, Whites lived in Sereille Bagand Tower, the Gray Ajah had Gerra Kishar Tower, Myriam Copan Tower for the Greens, The Brown sisters spent their time either in the massive library or in Doniella Alievin Tower. Last, but not least, the Red sisters lived in an unnamed tower, which most named simply the Red Tower. Since the Third Age, the Age of the Dragon, there had been no noteworthy Red Amyrlins. Even though the purpose of the Red Ajah had drastically changed since the Dragon Reborn cleansed saidin. They no longer hunted male channelers, but criminals. Each Red Aes Sedai was supposedly learned in the law of every country, but this was far from the truth. Most Reds, -herself included, admitted Abrya guiltily- wasted their Power-lengthened lives throwing extravagant parties. There was, she supposed, the option of going into the field and catching baddies. In a moment of clarity, she decided she would actually do something with her life for a change. She hadn’t left Ebou Dar for nothing, after all. Of course, back then she had been a feisty young woman, looking to do some good in this hectic world. All of that had been pushed to the back of her mind by the parties and the drink and left to rot. There were some Aes Sedai who, as was to be expected in any group of such magnitude, were quite frankly alcoholics. The Power would make one live longer than any non-channeler, but drinking oneself to death could not be Healed, and was as final as any other death imaginable.

Pushing the stray hairs dangling in front of her face back into the bun, Abrya attempted to size the Source once more. This time she succeeded, however she could only channel a small amount. It should be enough to get rid of this Light-blasted hangover, if only I could Heal myself. She sighed and took another pain reliever from the cabinet beside the mirror.  
The great bells atop the Amrylin’s Tower started ringing, bronze peals crashing like waves over the city below. Noon! Light, she had slept half the day away! She decided she would meet up with Avilina and Eleanore, both of them close friends of hers, and go to lunch together. She quite felt like seeing her friends again. Maybe they were there last night and could tell her what had happened!  
Grabbing the phone off the hook –one of those old models that still used a crank- , she dialed Avilina’s number and waited for her to pick up.  
“Hello, Avilina Gorudan Aes Sedai. With whom am I speaking?” came the crackly voice from the other end of the line.  
“Avilina? Yeah, it’s me, sugar. Say, you wanna get the gals back together an’ go for lunch down in the city?” responded Abrya.  
“Oh sure! Just gimme a minute, I’ll get Ella. Cover your ears, honey. ELEANORE! IT’S ABBY ON THE PHONE! SHE WANTS TO KNOW IF WE CAN GO TO LUNCH NOW!”  
“Light! You had to yell like that? Burn me!” Abrya cursed.  
“You know her, she’s practically deaf.” “Yeah, ‘cause you keep shouting at me. Lay off, would ya?” Eleanore butted into the call. Avilina called a ‘see you later’ in the background.


	2. Lunch at the Red Central Court

Abrya’s stomach rumbled as she swept down the grand staircase carpeted in red. The staircase, of course, did not go all the way to the top of the tower; elevators did that. The stairs were merely the means to a more elegant appearance into the Central Court. Lots and lots of shops and restaurants of varying taste and size lined the halls radiating out from the central plaza, light shining down on the massive fountain from the enormous skylight in the center of the tower. It seemed to her that there were a good many non-Red sisters there that day, many wearing Green, Blue or White shawls. Novices and Accepted scurried about here and there, Accepted more composed than the novices, though not yet having attained the sense of calm and collection emanating from true Aes Sedai. Except, of course, if that Aes Sedai had looked a bit too deep into the glass.  
Abrya soon spotted her friends sitting outside a Tairen-themed restaurant, waiters and waitresses dressed in traditionally Tairen garb; snug-fitting dark coats that flare below the waist, with black boots till halfway up the calf, and baggy white breeches tucked into them and tied at the waist by a colorful sash. Some even wore a kind of scarlet conical straw hat that sat awkwardly a bit off-center on their heads.  
She hugged each of them and then sat down, taking off her red-fringed shawl and folding it in her lap.  
“So,” she began, “what’s new, chumps?”   
“Oh, Abby!” Avilina said. “Great to see y’again darlin’! I was wondrin’ if something’d happened to ya!”  
“Yes. Great to see you again. ‘Ow ‘ave you been then?” Eleanore chimed in, the Cairhienin accent still thick in her voice after all these years.  
“I’ve been thinkin’ it’s time I do somethin’ with my life. I wanna join the police!”  
Her friends gasped in unison, turning wide-eyed to each other, mouths resembling fish.  
“Wh-what do you mean, you want to join the police? ‘Ave you gone mad?” Eleanore exclaimed.  
“No! I haven’t! Why? Is it because I’ve decided to do somethin’ for a change? Is it because I’m sick of all the partying and the booze and the hangovers?”   
Avilina sighed heavily and got up. “Honey, I respect your decision, but if y’insist on goin’ through with this, I’m gonna have to give up on this friendship. You know what we get up to an’ we can’t have police knowin’ about that, can we? We’d lose our freedom, not to mention the shawl! C’mon Ella.” She tugged on the sleeve of Eleanore’s dress, but she resisted. “No,” she turned to Abrya. “I will not let her decision ruin this wonderful friendship. I refuse. You may go, if you so wish, but I shall stay.” Avilina sniffed and whirled around, stalking back to the elevators. “Goodbye then. Don’t keep in touch,” she snapped.  
Abrya shook her head sadly. Avilina had always been hot-headed, it had been a wonder she even managed to get the shawl in the first place! No, that was mean. She was sure Avilina could be very calm in stressful situations. Then again, there had been some rumors a few decades back about how a certain new Aes Sedai had reached the shawl by having numerous secret pillow-friends in the higher councils. They had been debunked and denied profusely by all Aes Sedai in question, but one couldn’t help but wonder. 

Eleanore and Abrya finished their coffee and started lunch, somewhat more morose than when they had met up. The absence of Avilina was a contributing factor, for one. Ella assured her that she’d turn around; it wasn’t like a break like this hadn’t happened before. There were at least half a dozen times –that Abrya could remember- where Avilina had lost her temper and stalked away, only to return sheepishly a few days later, apologizing for her behavior.   
They bantered about the weather and how the Atha’an Miere Windfinders weren’t living up to the agreements made with the White Tower over the Bowl of Winds. They always had to find something to complain about, but that was part of their friendship. They bantered about how the new novices seemed to be getting shorter by the year. They tossed friendly jibes at each other’s wardrobe choices. All the things good friends usually did.   
After a while, Eleanore looked up at Abrya over the rim of her coffee cup. “Are you really certain you wish to go through with this? I am meaning, it is not very like you. Or, at least, the you I ‘ave come to know over these long decades.”   
“Yes, Ella. I’m quite sure. I wanna do something with my life, y’know? Not just sit up there in my shabby apartment and drink rum all day and all night. We’re Aes Sedai, for the Light’s sake. It used to mean Servant of All, but now it’s just a title like any other.”  
“Yes, but other titles need years of studying at a university, no? Take perhaps a doctor; they advance in the medical world only so far as Aes Sedai cannot. There are many who would think themselves equal in skill with our Yellow sisters, but this is not true in the slightest. Can a doctor instantly heal a foot-long gash in the abdomen? Or perhaps mend broken bones in a heartbeat? No. It takes time. Everything in this world of ours takes time. Now, you have seen your time for grieving is up, and you must carry on with your life. You cannot dwell forever on the past, my dear Abrya.”  
“Hold up,” said Abrya, sticking up a hand to forestall any protests from her friend. “I’m not dwelling in the past anymore. My husband died in an automobile accident fifty years ago, as you well know.” Emotions and memories she had thought long since suppressed and gone started tearing at their bounds, slowly bubbling up to the surface.  
She had been only 24 when Kolwyn had died. It had left her devastated. Alone with her two young children, she roamed the Altaran countryside, begging and doing tasks for one innkeeper or the other, sometimes even stealing when there was no other choice. Ebou Dar did not take kindly to beggars, nor poor people in general. It was a city for the rich; oh, she had lived there all her life, but when she married Kolwyn, her parents had disowned her. The whole continent’s economy was in a slow decline and jobs were in terrifyingly short supply. She’d been sacked by her boss, after working there as his secretary for 3 years. She’d tried desperately to find another job, but had no such luck. As a result, Kolwyn was the only source of income in their small household.   
Then, of course, came the accident. From what she’d been able to gather from the constables, her husband had been crossing the road when some big shot’s new automobile had flown round the corner, motor roaring and wheels squealing in protest. There had been no attempt to brake, as there were no skid marks to show for it. Kolwyn was hit head on. There had been nothing the paramedic sister could do, and he died there on the sidewalk, alone, broken and scared. She should have been there. She should have been by his side as the life left his eyes, her should have been the last face he ever saw in this life. But no, she couldn’t have. How could she have known the morning of that fateful day that he was going to die that afternoon?   
She shook herself out of her reverie and realized Eleanore had been speaking to her.  
“Sorry, what were you saying?” she said sheepishly.  
Her friend threw her hands up in exasperation: “See? This, this is what you need to snap out of.” She leaned over with her handkerchief and dabbed at a tear that had rolled onto Abrya’s cheek without her noticing. Abrya clutched her friend’s hand tightly as grief rolled over her again and tears pricked the edges of her eyes. “Thanks, Ella. You’re the best friend anyone could ever wish for. I don’t deserve you, do I?”  
“That is nonsense, Abrya Hirwinn Aes Sedai,” she admonished sternly, “and you know it.”   
“I-I suppose you were right. I do still think about him. I haven’t seen my children in years. I just can’t stand being cooped up in here anymore.” She took a shuddering breath to steady her nerves.   
“I want you to know that I understand your decision and I will support you to the extent of my ability,” said Eleanore. “Now, off with you. You ‘ave some serious preparing to do before you can join the police.”


	3. Accident in the Elevator Shaft

And so it was that Abrya and Eleanore parted ways at that little Tairen restaurant, both heading to separate parts of the Red Spire. Abrya, hands trembling, fumbled with her purse as she tried to get out her pack of cigarettes. She lit it and took a deep breath to calm herself. Emotional weaves were strictly regulated in this part of the White Tower, so she dare not use any on herself. At least, not if she still wanted to join the police.   
Arrived at her apartment a few minutes later, she decided to try to get back in touch with her children. Katya must be 50 now, perhaps even have grandchildren of her own. Wilam… Well, she had had a suspicion about Wilam for a long time. ‘A mother always knows,’ as the saying goes.   
She picked up her phone and dialed the operator: “Tar Valon Central Telephone Operator, how may I be of assistance?” came the man’s gravelly voice.   
“This is Abrya Hirwinn Aes Sedai of the Red Ajah. I would like all information on the whereabouts of Wilam Hirwinn and Katya, possibly no longer named Hirwinn.”  
“I will have the files sent to your tenement as soon as possible, Aes Sedai.” The operator said politely.  
She hesitated. “No, no, that won’t be necessary. I shall collect them from the Red Central Court.” Another walk would help clear her head.   
She hung up and sat down at her writing desk. She could be in for a very long day ahead of her…

 

She awoke with a start to the harsh ringing of the telephone. She must have fallen asleep on her desk. She wiped the drool from the corner of her mouth and picked up the phone  
“Nyello?” she said drowsily.   
“Abrya Hirwynn Aes Sedai?” came the sharp, squeaky voice of the pageboy on the other end of the line. “You ordered a package, Aes Sedai?”  
“What? Oh, yes, I’ll be right down.” Straightening her tiara in the mirror before she swept out the door, she channeled a lick of Water to get her hair back into its now-elaborate hairdo. Somehow, she had found the time to go to the hairdresser’s before the meeting with her friends. She also hastily checked the clock. Lord Dragon and all His Saints! Quarter past five already!  
She decided to take the elevator instead of the stairs, to save on time. At least, she hoped it would. At least a dozen Red sisters and half again as many servants and novices stood waiting impatiently for the elevator to finally come up to their floor. When it finally did arrive, the operator doffed his hat, bowed and explained in a rapid-fire manner that there had been an accident and the elevator would not be functioning for probably the rest of this week, my apologies Aes Sedai. With a great muttering and grumbling the rest of the waiting passengers wandered off, in search of another elevator or a nearby stairwell. Abrya stayed behind, her curiosity piqued. All concern for the dossiers of her children forgotten, she daintily knocked on the sliding grate in front of the elevator, startling the operator.  
“Hello. Could you tell me what’s going on?” she said, attempting to use the airhead ploy –and her still quite good looks- on this young man.  
“A-Aes Sedai,” he stammered.  
“Oh, no! Silly me!” she laughed as she took of her shawl. “No, I’m not an Aes Sedai. No, my sister is. She was raised to the shawl just two weeks ago so I came to see her. She let me wear this silly thing in her apartments. I must have forgotten to take it off!”  
“M-miss, something happened downstairs and I c-can’t let you on this elevator. Sorry, miss, but you’ll have to find another one.”  
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, dear. It’ll be perfectly safe. Besides,” she said, lowering her voice and making the young man lean in closer, “there’s something I need to tell you.”  
The elevator operator hesitated for a moment, then sighed and pushed aside the grate.  
As soon as she stepped into the elevator, she dropped her show and returned to her Aes Sedai collectedness. “Now. Tell me what exactly is going on.”  
The young man’s eyes widened in surprise as he realized she really was Aes Sedai. “B-but, you really are Aes Sedai!” he stammered.   
She sighed: “Well of course I’m Aes Sedai. Did you really think an Aes Sedai would let anyone else wear her shawl, even her sister? Now do as I say or I’ll leave you bound in Air between floors. Without an elevator.” He blanched and slid the grate closed. He flicked the switch to close the doors and started the elevator, putting them in between two floors where no one was bound to look.   
“Now. Tell me what exactly I want to know or I will smack the living daylights out of you.” Abrya said menacingly. The poor elevator operator cowered and started yapping about how there had been an accident at the bottom of the elevator shaft and that it looked like an accident but maybe wasn’t.   
She tapped her lips thoughtfully and tried to drown out the mindless drivel the boy was spouting now, meaningless bits of information and rumor. An accident? What kind of accident? Had someone died, maybe? Perhaps a visiting Brown sister had had her nose buried in a book and taken a tumble down the shaft… Peculiar, quite peculiar.   
“Alright,” she said, interrupting his pleas. You’d think he’d been on the brink of death for all his begging and sobbing. “Alright, just take me back up to my floor. You can go then.”   
He wiped his face on his sleeve, leaving tear stains on the otherwise iridescent scarlet coat. With a final sniffle he set the elevator back in motion and they soon arrived at Abrya’s floor. The young man practically flung the doors open and sprinted down the hallway to the stairwell, about fifty feet further. With a sigh, she swept out of the elevator after him, but in a much more dignified manner.   
Feeling she was missing something, Abrya continued her way downwards to the Red Central Court. Suddenly, it snapped. That is to say, something snapped. With a hiss of displaced air, a tendril of something whipped through the air towards her, slamming into her chest and throwing her against the curving wall of the staircase. Disoriented and hurting, she reached desperately for the Source, this time managing to seize it.


	4. The City of Tar Valon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abrya Sedai wakes up and leaves for the police commissary. At this point I'm too tired to write a proper description, so you'll just have to read the chapter to know what it's about.

A group of servants a bit further down the stairs scattered, also seemingly thrown about by some unknown force. Screams and shouts of surprise resonated through the stairwell, all the way down. Abrya had already formed a weave when she realized whomever –or whatever had tossed her was long gone now. “Rhatz!” she said in disappointment. After a day of almost not channeling, she was starting to feel empty, like her soulmate had left. He had, in a sense, but that had been 50 odd years ago.   
She shook her head to clear it and started down the stairs again.   
When she reached the bottom of the incredibly long flight of stairs, there was quite a commotion further down the hall. Several policemen dressed in hues of green, brown and grey stood on guard in front of the elevator shaft, bright yellow police tape spanning the entry.   
Abrya tugged her shawl tighter around her shoulders, wishing she had one of her warm feather boas with her. Smooth jazz drifted down the hall from where a band was playing in the Central Court. She walked up to one of the officers and asked: “What’s going on, officer?” As an Aes Sedai, propriety allowed her to be so rude. The officer, though, had to watch what he said. “With all due respect, Aes Sedai, I am not at liberty to release any information,” said the man, continuing to stare straight ahead.   
“Not at liberty, eh? We’ll see about that,” she responded menacingly.  
“Ma’am, I’m afraid I must respectfully remind you that any and all channeling against Tar Valon police forces will be seen as a threat and will be dealt with accordingly.”  
Of course. She’d forgotten about the ter’angreal all police officers wore. It allowed them to sense when someone was holding the Source. One could compare it to an Aes Sedai’s ability to see a glow around another woman holding the Source. The ter’angreal also allowed them to be immune to any and all channeling directed at the wearer. She’d heard some professors compare it to a gholam from the 3rd Age. Knotai, Prince of Ravens, had had to deal with one, so the legends went. He’d only been able to kill it by throwing it off a Skimming platform. Even then, it probably still wasn’t dead. It would only be falling for all eternity.   
With a frown and a grimace, she turned away and stalked back to the Central Court. It was getting late and she wasn’t in the mood for bread and soup again. Besides, it was half cold already by the time it arrived at her apartments. She eventually found a restaurant that wasn’t packed full with visitors or Aes Sedai or Accepted. She could have just had a table vacated for her, she supposed. Most restaurant-owners did that for Aes Sedai. But then, she wasn’t in the mood to get into a fight with a patron, either.   
Over her glass of red wine, she decided she’d sign up for the police in the morning. Now, all she wanted to do was give the waiter an earful when her food finally arrived. 

 

Ting. Ting. Tingtingtingting. Ugh. Her alarm clock was going off. For the hundredth time that year she decided she was not a morning person. She laboriously opened her eyes and looked at the clock face. Only half past eight…   
Half past eight! Light, she was going to be late!   
With a groan and a shiver she jumped out of bed, the bedroom air chilly on her skin. Without bothering to undo her night-braid, she threw on a dress and some make-up. The make-up was easily applied; she’d always been deft with Air. She glanced at the clock and decided she didn’t have time to do up her hair properly, so a braid would just have to do. Anyway, according to legend, the great Amyrlin Nynaeve al’Meara had always worn her hair in a braid over her shoulder, and she had been famous for her bravery. That was what she needed today.   
After grabbing an apple from the kitchen counter, she locked the door and started down the corridor towards the elevator. It was probably still down, she reasoned. She’d have better luck using the stairs. As she walked, she bit into her apple. It was crisp and juicy, but it was almost tasteless to her. Nerves, perhaps? Or maybe too much alcohol had deadened her tongue…She hoped it hadn’t.  
Ten minutes later, she was standing in the enormous shadow of the Red Tower, looking out at the magnificent gleaming metropolis. The Osendrelle Erinin and Alindrelle Erinin glittered on either side of the island. Once, there had been only small villages on the other side of the bridges, but over the ages, the city had expanded and swallowed them whole. Towers, boulevards and skyscrapers stretched for miles in both directions, surpassing even Caemlyn in greatness. She took a deep breath and started down the street and into the heart of the civilian city. Of course the White Tower was the center of Tar Valon, but it had grown so big that the Hall of the Tower had had no choice other than to some power over the city to a mayor and their Council. While the Tower itself still held power over certain essential items concerning the city, other departments and organizations were handed over to the Mayor, like the police and fire departments. This time, it was the police department she was looking for, and she was also completely sober this time.   
Automobiles were forbidden on Tower Grounds, so the grumbling of combustion engines wouldn’t disturb the Aes Sedai in their research and work. As she was one of the first Aes Sedai to leave the complex that day, the massive gates were still closed firmly. She weaved Air and pushed. The hinges squealed in protest and the pearly white gates swung open to reveal Tar Valon, magnificent and bustling in the morning sunlight. Horns honked and whistles screeched, all adding to the comfortable cacophony of the city.   
Sometime after Tarmon Gai’don, when Tar Valon had first started expanding rapidly, The Hall of the Tower had sent to the Black Tower for a few men to form a large circle. This coalition had placed a weave upon the whole city, making it smell of clean water and roses eternally. A weave of such magnitude, no matter how many people in the circle, would be mentally and physically taxing on every member in the group. As a result, half a dozen sister had lost their lives and another half dozen had burned themselves out. She always felt slightly guilty when she breathed the Tar Valon air, for all those sisters who had sacrificed themselves for the comfort of the citizens.   
She hailed a cab at the bottom of the stairs and arrived at the police commissary ten minutes later and about fifteen marks poorer. Her nerves were starting to get the better of her and her hands were starting to tremble, even though she performed the ancient Aes Sedai mental calming practices. She hadn’t had to use them for years, but she had never forgotten them. She straightened her shawl and tugged firmly on her braid, reprimanding herself for her un-Aes Sedai like behavior. Finally, she pushed open the door…


	5. Confrontation at the Constabulary

The reception area of the police station was, as per usual, a dimly lit, sordid affair. The stained spruce paneling made the room seem smaller than it actually was, an effect no more softened by the low-hanging chandelier. The air in the room, in sharp contrast to the clean and fresh air of the city outside, was smoky and smelled pleasantly of Two Rivers tabac. Feeling a growing need, she took a cigarette from her purse and jammed it firmly on her cigarette holder. Channeling a lick of Fire to light it, she inhaled and stepped forward to the counter.   
“I request to see the chief,” she said in a commanding tone. It appeared the man behind the counter was not in the least intimidated by her presence. The man –whose handlebar moustache spread magnificently over his upper lip- gave Abrya a bored glance.   
“I demand to see the Chief Constable,” she said once again, growing increasingly indignant. When the man again responded by neglecting to respond, she started to lose her already fragile temper.   
“Child, do not play games with me. I am Abrya Hirwinn, Aes Sedai of the Red Ajah and I demand to see the police chief!” she spat, cigarette holder dangling precariously from her lips.   
The man behind the counter sighed and gave in. Presumably he belonged to a faction of anti-channelers called the Breaking Dawn, and he had therefore been loath to converse with a channeler. He knew there were some Aes Sedai and Asha’man who were hell-bent on seeing that particular fashion ‘go out of style’, as they called it these days, but of course the man had no way of knowing what ideology appealed to which Aes Sedai.   
The receptionist –for that was what he was, in essence- grudgingly skulked off to find the police chief.   
Moments later, the receptionist returned, followed by a rather portly man in his shirtsleeves and police cap. His bright red suspenders looked rather ridiculous when compared with his the blue jacket slung over his shoulder.   
“Aes Sedai!” he said warmly, holding out his hands in an inviting gesture. “How may I help you?”   
“I wish to speak with you in private, Constable.”  
“Ah, of course, of course. Allow me to show you to my office,” the chief responded.   
As they walked down the long hall to the Chief Constable’s office, Abrya noticed the building seemed much bigger on the inside than it looked from the street. She supposed a former Chief Constable had paid an Aes Sedai or Asha’man good money to lay an illusion weave over the building. Seeing as she couldn’t sense any saidar weaves nearby, she assumed it must have been an Asha’man. When she asked the Chief Constable about that, he answered in a puzzling manner: “Oh no, Aes Sedai. There never was any channeler that laid a weave on this building. That is to say, not that I know of.”   
Moments later, the Constable stopped at a door with a name –presumably his-, unlocked it, and stepped inside.   
“So, what can I do for you, Aes Sedai?” the short man said.  
Abrya cleared her throat and spoke: “I would like to join the police force.”  
Chief Constable al’Duren –which, according to the nameplate on the desk, signified his Two Rivers heritage- coughed and held up a finger: “Please excuse me saying so, Aes Sedai, but the thing is, there’s always been a certain contempt for the Tar Valon Police Department from the White Tower. I cannot see why an Aes Sedai of the Red Ajah would wish to join the police. Now, if I may be so frank as to ask you to leave, I have important work to do.”  
Abrya’s face flushed with indignance and anger; how dare that man speak to her in such a way! It was absolutely outrageous! “Mister al’Duren,” she said, concealing her rage in an icy blanket of frostiness, “I will not tolerate a man –nor any person- to insult me in such a manner. You say it is tradition that channelers do not join the police force, yet you do not even consider my talents and accomplishments when one does wish to join. How very dare you! And another thing; did your mother never teach you to respect Aes Sedai?”   
The wretched man seemed unfazed by her tirade and responded indifferently: “No ma’am, she did not. She died when I was 5. Now if you please…”  
With a huff she stood up out of the uncomfortable chair and walked out of the Constable’s office, slamming the door shut with a swish of Air. 

The Tar Valon streets zipped swiftly by outside the window of the cab as Abrya reflected on the events that had transpired in the commissary. The man’s actions had been absolutely preposterous. What a waste of money and time.


	6. An Idea

Back in her apartments, an idea came to her. The tiniest spore of an idea took hold and started to flourish. Soon it was a whole plan, a brilliant plan. A plan to make a police force only for channelers. Men and women whose Ajahs or Battalions didn’t have a special purpose would come together to eradicate crime in the centers of channeling. It would strengthen the bonds between the Aes Sedai and the Asha’man, perhaps even being the first of many organizations that would breach the gap that had formed between the two channeling parties over the centuries. Yes, this was a marvelous idea!  
Immediately, she wrote a petition for an audience with the Amyrlin and, without bothering to send for a messenger, she threw it out the window. Accepted took turns maintaining the streams of Air that whirled around the towers. Invented in the early 6th century AD, this ingenious system of delivering messages around the Tower grounds was extremely useful for getting notes and letters to where they needed to be. There were almost two dozen different streams around the compound, each pair coming and going from important buildings. In Abrya’s case, she had thrown it in the Amyrlin’s stream, which obviously headed to the Amyrlin’s Tower. Well, of course it didn’t go directly to the Amyrlin; she was far too busy to be bothered by the tons of paper flying into her Tower. That was why the Hall had decided to instate a second Keeper of the Chronicles in 541 AD, to help with the administration. Hopefully, her request would be found by Gwendan Faradey and not Helima Joren. Joren was sure to deny it, while Gwendan seemed to be rather fond of her.  
Feeling her eyelids getting heavier, she decided to hit the hay early that day and be ready for an eventual audience with the Amyrlin. Worst case scenario, the Amyrlin would deny her request for remuneration and she’d have to go ask the Hall, who would be even more reluctant to give money to a new cause. The Tower wasn’t exactly as progressive as other great cities or organizations in this day and Age. 

The next morning, the tap on her window of a small lead ball used to weight the papers with woke her. Hurriedly, she opened it and the note came sailing in. She was surprised to see it bore the Amyrlin’s seal, as well as those of the two Keepers. That was a good thing. Well, she hoped it was a good thing that the Keepers had thought her petition urgent enough to tell the Amyrlin directly.   
She was expected in the Amyrlin’s Tower at High Noon that very same day! Still, she was worried that the fact that the Amyrlin had taken time out of her busy schedule to see her, a lowly Red Ajah sister, wasn’t necessarily a good one. It didn’t look like a summons, but then again, she’d never really seen one.   
Abrya quickly jumped into some clothes and picked up the telephone to call Eleanore.   
“’Ello, who is this?” came the sleepy voice on the other end of the line after half a dozen rings.  
“Ella, it’s me. Listen, I need to talk to you. Can you meet me at the restaurant where we had dinner the other night?”  
Eleanore sounded confused, but said: “Yes, of course. I will be in the Court in twenty minutes.”   
“Okay, meet ya there.”

Here we go again, she thought as she swept out of her apartment, snatching a red feather boa off the stand by the door. Down the hall. “Damn, still out of order?” she muttered when she passed the closed of elevator. Stairs it was, then. One flight passed… three flights… seven flights…   
Eventually she found a working elevator to bring her to the Court. Arrived there, she started looking for her friend.   
“Abrya!”   
She heard someone shout her name and turned to look where it had come from; a table at the Tairen restaurant she had dined at last evening. She made her not-so-subtle way through the masses that crowded the Red Central Court, even at such an early time in the morning, and plopped down in front of her friend. 

“Good morning, dear. What did you want to see me about?” Ella asked.   
“I have had an idea. A brilliant idea. A wonderfully brilliant idea!” Abrya was practically bubbling with excitement.   
Eleanore sighed and said: “Well, out with it then. What’s you amazing idea?”  
Abrya leaned in closer and lowered her voice, discretely putting up an inverted ward against eavesdropping; “Don’t tell anyone else yet, seeing as I haven’t been to see the Amyrlin about it yet, but you remember me going to the constabulary in the city, yeah?” Without waiting for Ella to respond that yes, of course she remembers, you wouldn’t stop talking about it, Abrya continued. “I want to establish my own police force, right here on Tower grounds. We can have an office in the Black Tower over in Andor, and Asha’man and Aes Sedai partners! We’ll leave petty crime to the normal police, but we can deal with crimes committed against or with the One Power. Isn’t that great?”  
Her friend seemed to like the idea, but she was a bit doubtful about the Hall letting something as –well, as controversial- as that proposition through. They’d both been in a rough spot or two with the Hall before. Alright, it was three times. No more than three. Honestly.   
The two friends chatted excitedly about the idea until the bell for Noon rang. Abrya was startled out of her conversation and hastily said her goodbyes to Eleanore, before swiftly gliding off through the milling mass of shoppers and sisters.   
Luckily, there was an elevator free directly to her floor this time. She only had less than an hour before she was scheduled to bring her proposition before the Amyrlin.


	7. Audience with the Amyrlin

An hour later, she arrived on the lavishly decorated upper landing of the Amyrlin’s Tower, once the ancient and venerated White Tower itself (the building, not to be confused with the autonomous institution of female channelers). Gwendan sat at one of the two desks beside the massive door, inscribed with a Flame of Tar Valon that was easily the size of a woman, if not more. Gwendan smiled at her and said: “Good past-noon, Abrya. The Mother has been expecting you.”  
With that, the doors swung open on an unseen gust of Air, revealing the immense Audience Chamber. All the way at the other end of the great hall stood the Amyrlin Seat. Not the ancient one still used in the Hall of the Tower, but an exact replica built by Aes Sedai, Ogier and Asha’man in the 6th century AD. Seated upon it was, well, the Amyrlin Seat.   
Elayne Gomarra-Trakand was an imposing and regal woman, something fairly out of place in this world of republics and decrepit empires, where monarchies were scarce but still held power. Descended directly from the great Andoran Queen Elayne Trakand, who was also her namesake, she had the same golden hair spilling in waves over her shoulders. The Mother was a beautiful woman, and Abrya had to admit she had had a crush on her when she was still only an Accepted.   
The Amyrlin’s Crown nestled in her golden hair caught the sunlight and threw a beam of light right in Abrya’s eyes, making her flinch slightly. Way to go, Abby, she thought to herself. 

As protocol dictated, she waited in approximately the middle of the hall before the Amyrlin called out: “Approach, daughter, and speak what you wish.”  
She glided forward and bowed to kiss her ring. “Mother, I have a proposition.”   
“Speak, daughter.” Her voice sounded like honey and lavender.  
“I have an idea to make our own police force. One only for channelers and crimes against the One Power, committed with the One Power or on channeler territory.”  
Elayne Gomarra-Trakand looked thoughtful for a minute. “This seems a solid idea. Have you any idea of how to go about doing this, Abrya Hirwinn Aes Sedai?”  
That was the problem. “Well, ah, in truth, no. No, Mother, I do not. At least, not yet. What I do know is that I will need funds, material and personnel if I am to realize this project.”  
The Amyrlin sighed. “Money. How is it always about money these days? In my youth one could buy a three sweetsticks for a ha’penny. Now it is half a crown a piece! I am afraid I cannot help you on the financial part of this project of yours, but I can give you advisors and materials in a pinch. Once you have gotten a foothold in the Tower, I will write up an edict, thereby making you an official organ of the White Tower. It will then be up to you to make contact with the Asha’man in Andor and the other channelers in the Waste, Shara and Seanchan. I like this idea of yours, daughter. Make sure you do it right.”  
Abrya knew a dismissal when she saw one, but she also knew she had finished the first leg of her journey. Convincing the Sitters in the Hall would be hard, but with the Amyrlin’s backing, surely she would prevail and get the funds necessary for starting such a grandiose and daring undertaking. She felt confident.

The next day, the Hall of the Tower was scheduled to convene in the presence of the Amyrlin. Though the records and stories showed the Hall was once almost –if not- equal to the Amyrlin herself, it was now much less than that. These days, it was more a gathering of Ajah Heads (who, conveniently, were also Sitters) discussing how to make a nuisance of themselves to the Amyrlin. One could say the Hall had diminished in power, but, at the same time, one might also say the Amyrlin Seat had gained power over the years.   
Either way, the Hall was still a force to be reckoned with to the ordinary sisters, albeit less so than in the previous Age, the one before the Lord Dragon’s glorious triumph over the Shadow at Tarmon Gai’don. In no uncertain terms, Abrya was quite nervous. Not exactly the expected state of mind for an Aes Sedai since a little over 40 years, but then, who wouldn’t be nervous in front of the Hall of the Tower and a pair of representatives from the Black Tower?  
She hadn’t slept much that night, instead choosing to pore over the files on her children and scribbling up ideas and half-formed plans for the police force. Light, she didn’t even have a name for it yet! Her children seemed alright, though. Both married (the files didn’t mention if it was happily, of course), Wilam lived in a small village near the suburbs of Caemlyn, now the third biggest city besides Seandar and Tar Valon. Katya had chosen to stay in Ebou Dar with her husband, and the files listed two grandchildren by her. Apparently, Wilam had also had a child. Adopted, probably, she thought to herself. She should go see them soon. But first, she had to appear before the Hall in a few hours. What would she wear? Perhaps the long, black velvet dress slashed with scarlet from the waist down? Or maybe something more daring, a knee-length green frilly dress? Of course, she had to wear her red boa with the shorter dress… She probably should use a more traditional shawl with the black dress…  
Eventually she decided to go with the elegant black-and-red dress with her best scarlet shawl draped over her arms. It had been a while since she had walked around in such a long dress, but she made do by lifting the front hem off the ground with a small tongue of Air. She swept through the halls like a hurricane, clutching the folder that held her ideas and plans tightly to her chest. Abrya was not one to put much faith in omens and the like, but today she felt as though the birds that had flown by her window thrice in the same direction were a good omen. Her grandmamma had always told her she was an exceptionally good omen reader and that she should apply for a job in Seandar. However, she had not wanted to travel halfway around the world just for a stupid job, and it would probably also have meant leaving her husband. He wouldn’t have gone with her, seeing as he was quite against the Seanchan Empire and more for a secession of Altara from the Empire.


	8. The Hall of the Tower

Two flights of stairs, an elevator ride and seventeen different hallways later, she arrived at the doors of the Hall of the Tower. The Hall had been moved from its original location to the second floor of the Tower, for reasons already lost to the centuries. Presumably one of the fires in the Great Library had destroyed the documents that stated cause and means.  
It seemed the Sitters had been waiting for her, for when the doors were opened, a few sighs of impatience drifted through the air. The Asha’man diplomats were, of course, obliged to stand at the entrance of any sister, as the Aes Sedai diplomats in the Black Tower were too. The Sitters were still a sight to behold, almost a full circle of elegantly clad and serious women, headed by the Amyrlin herself. Abrya’s calm wanted desperately to go hide in a dusty corner of her mind, but she tightened her grip and quickly went through the Age-old novice exercise of the rose unfurling.   
“Abrya Hirwinn, Aes Sedai of the Red Ajah. You have been summoned before the Hall of the Tower at the request of the Mother herself.” The sentence uttered by the Domani Green Sitter seemed more a question than a statement, and Abrya found herself unsure of how to react.   
“Yes, Sitter. That is to say, the Mother told me she would lay my proposition before the Hall.” she managed to say. Light, but she was going to make a fool of herself! Some days she wondered how she had ever even reached the shawl…  
“You have a proposition? Pray, do tell us what it is,” said the tall Grey Sitter.   
Abrya glanced about for a table to lay her folder on, but saw none. “Might I request a table, Sitters?”  
A grandmotherly Brown Sitter chuckled and waved her fingers. A folding table came flying over her shoulder and skittered recklessly to a halt before Abrya.   
“Thank you, Sitter. Now, as I was saying, I have an idea. An idea that, if I can make it work, might change the face of modern law enforcement.” A few eyebrows were raised at that, roughly the equivalent of surprised gasps from anyone other than Aes Sedai. “I want to make a police force consisting solely out of channelers. It will have a main base here, in the White Tower, and, if the Asha’man will allow it, one in the Black Tower. We will prosecute crimes committed against the One Power, with the One Power, against channelers of any kind and any and all crimes committed on channeler territory.”  
There was a hubbub amongst the Sitters as they stuck their heads together. The Red Sitters looked collectively distressed and annoyed, and the Asha’man had opened a small callbox, probably to their superiors in the Black Tower. One of the Reds, Abrya thought her name was Helna Troya, stepped down off the platform the benches were on and approached Abrya, putting up weaves against eavesdropping and lip-reading as she went.   
“What is this, sister?” she started. “This harebrained plan of yours, were you planning on sharing it with me, your Ajah Head?” She was starting to go a bit red in the face.  
“Well, you see, Sitter, I only thought of this a few days ago and thought it should be put before the Amyrlin as soon as possible. Besides,” she added, not without a hint of venom, “let’s not pretend that the Ajah Heads are actually interested in what their sisters do.”  
With a huff, Helna Troya spun around and practically stomped back to her seat. You’d better watch yourself, Abrya, she thought.   
The Amyrlin waved her hand subtly at the Keeper to her right. She pounded her staff on the tiles three times and the Hall fell silent. All eyes turned expectantly to the Amyrlin.  
“Daughters. There is one subject of vote today, and that subject is whether or not we fund Abrya Hirwinn’s endeavor. The time for debate is over, let us cast our votes. All in favor?”  
Several hands were raised, including the Amyrlin’s. Abrya didn’t quite know how many she needed to get the required funds, but she hoped it would be enough.   
“All abstained?” Three hands.   
“All against?” Four hands. “The motion has been passed. Abrya Hirwinn Aes Sedai will receive the necessary alimentation to fund her endeavor. See to it that you succeed, daughter.”   
She couldn’t believe it. She’d done it. She had won the Hall over for her project! This Hall was notoriously conservative and divided in its views, but there seemed to be some points that they could all agree on. It hadn’t really surprised her that the Red Sitter, Helna, had voted against her proposal, most likely because she disliked being spoken to in the manner that Abrya had done.   
Now all that was left to do was actually, well, make the thing work. She was dismissed from the Hall and on the way back to the Red Tower, she mulled things over in here head. She needed a place to run the operations from, preferably on tower grounds. It wouldn’t do to have it in the city. Next, she needed staff. Fellow channelers who could be the constables. No, that name wouldn’t do either. Something like… Operatives? No; it didn’t quite roll off the tongue. Agents! Yes, wonderful. Administration, too, secretaries, a whole horde of them. The Light knew there were more than enough literate unemployed people in the city.


End file.
